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Assassination investigation
Transformers 2005 - Monday, July 26, 2004, 7:16 PM -------------------------------------------------- Olympic Stadium(#2563 RLntFMN) Vast and large, this circular stadium is to house the main events for the Monacus Olympics. Stands surround the center field, with chairs ranging from small sizes to much larger ones, able to seat Transformers of nearly every size. In the very center of the stadium is a raised platform about 30 meters (100 feet) on each side, obviously some sort of fighting arena. Ringing this platform is a wide, level expanse with different numbered rows, which borders the outside of the stands. And yet there is still a lot of empty space in the arena. Outside of the stadium are abandoned buildings, the remains of an area that Pangalactic Industries is in the process of rebuilding. Contents: Foxfire, Hardstrike, Smokescreen, and Swindle Combat Pit 1, Combat Pit 2, Combat Pit 3, Combat Pit 4, Commentator's Booth, Events Computer, Junkion Boxcar, Race Track 2.0, Terran private box, and The stands Obvious exits: West leads to Monacus Highrise Hotel. South leads to Last Chance Alley. East leads to PGI Office Block. Foxfire, settling down in the seat he's been occupying, slowly raises an optic ridge in Swindle's direction. "What do I hate?" he reiterates, and groans softly. "You, Galvatron, Cyclonus, Shockwave..." As if the answer wasn't obvious. "Just scram, okay?" He gets edgy around Decepticons, especially during a cease-fire such as this one. Hardstrike mutters slightly, knowing Swindle enjoys the ceasefire because he can /sell/ things to the Autobots without getting flak from either side. For now, he just nurses his drink, listening. Aramasu Hikage walks into the stadium carrying a datapad and frowns shaking his head. "I knew it. They can't be trusted." The Militant slowly makes his way up towards the upper ring of the stadium where a week or so ago there was an attempt on commander Trent's life made by...Well nobody has any proofs but the Sparrow Commander does have some suspicions. Foxfire, settling down in the seat he's been occupying, slowly raises an optic ridge in Swindle's direction. "Why do I hate?" he reiterates, and groans softly. "Care to be more specific?" A simple glance is given toward the arriving Militant; Foxy himself had actually gone after the sniper, but as of right now, his reasons for doing so are unclear. Such a pity the assassin escaped before anyone could get a good look at him. Smokescreen looks down at Foxfire, and shakes his head. "Sadly, Swindle- it's true that this war has brought out some...less than desirable traits on both sides. Hatred being the first and foremost." He shrugs, unaware of Aramasu's presence for the time being. Swindle fixes his gaze on Hardstrike for a moment, he'd been expecting some form of reply, receiving no such thing he turns back down to Foxfire. "You have made a comment that you hate me, I know of no such grounds for such strong emotion but nevertheless, My query was WHY do you hate? Not me specifically, but if the Autobot faction claims to be the, ah, 'good guys' in this feud of ours then why do you, a member of the aforementioned faction, hate? Or is the source of your confusion more that you are unaware of a reason? Blind hate is worse still..." Swindle trails off, leaving that tantalizing thread to hang in the air for a moment. Glancing across at Smokescreen he shrugs. "Those traits are present in all of us to one extent or another, indeed, most of the races in the known galaxy share the same or similar identifiable attributes." Hardstrike listens onwards. Sure, Swindle has a point-he's being hated for things he may not of personally done. But then again, they are actions he condones, and supports, and even fights for at times. What's to say he isn't just as guilty? But Hardstrike doesn't feel like playing judge today. Maybe...some other time. Foxfire prompty stands up in his seat, unconsciously digging his claws into it. "I have a pretty damn good reason for it!" he snarls viciously, his optics momentarily shining. "*We* aren't the ones who go around causin' destruction with no regard for other beings!" He's pretty pissed off now. "All of you Decepticons are the same. None of you care how many lives you destroy!" And let's not forget that he's still got those sharp teeth he wants to use. And the claws. "I hate you because you're one of THEM." What happened before was just mild irritation, but now Foxy's truly lost his temper. Aramasu Hikage stands on the sniper's spot and looks at the other line of sights the shooter had and who else might have been an easier target but was spared...Yes the Autobots would have been an easy target but the rifle caliber was way too small to -really- hurt them. Annoy them maybe but not hurt them. Nope...no other possible targets. The sniper WAS coming from the Militants. The Sparrow commander re-reads the forensics report on the destroyed rifle fragments which hints at it's origins. Smokescreen peers down at Foxfire, taking a moment to step between Cassette and Combaticon. "Please, Foxfire- save it for the battlefield. Besides, blind rage like that can be easily exploited...you should know that." he scolds. Swindle just looks down at Foxfire thoughtfully. "Tell that to Springer." He says simply, presuming that Foxfire is aware of the situation he is referring to. Smiling faintly he adds. "Besides, I'm not one of /them/, I'm one of /us./ A Cybertronian. If I am to be lumped in with the actions of my kind, then that same principle applies to yourself from a wider perspective. There are almost no species that aren't prepared to sacrifice other beings for the sake of their own kind." He smiles brightly and shrugs as he looks across at Smokescreen. "And this is why I generally refrain from discussing politics." Jazz is still pacing, somewhere near where Rodimus was. Honestly. Wipeout emerges from Combat Pit 1. Wipeout has arrived. Bristling, Foxfire directs his glare to Smokescreen, but his expression softens, and he mumbles something that sounds like an apology. Saying nothing else, the cassette hops down from his seat and heads toward the entrance of the stadium, presumably to find something that will take his mind off the conversation. Who knew the little troublemaker had such a temper? "Yahoo!" "Yahoo!" The voice of a femme filters through the stadium. From the entrance come the scourse of the voice; a slender skateboarding Junkion femme. Yes. She is skateboarding. And she's doing pretty good too, considering that most Transformers probably don't know the first thing about skateboarding. "Yahoo! Look out, here I come!!" she calls, grinding down a railing. She jumps her board over an empty energon cup, and continues on. She reaches the main floor, and starts doing some other tricks. She seems to be doing a sort of breakdance with her skateboard, spinning and jumping over objects. "Yahoo!" Smokescreen opens his mouth, no doubt to say something so witty, so profound, and otherwise so generally awesome that it would no doubt cause the entire cybertonian war to grind to a halt, if just for a moment, so that each combatant could meditate on how witty, how profound, and how otherwise awesome Smokescreen is. Instead, a Tony Hawk junkion shows up, ruining the moment. "...Odd." he muses, regarding the femme carefully. Aramasu Hikage walks back down from the top of the stadium .oO(Definately some people are pretty ruthless or at least more than they are known to.)Oo. The Militant puts his datapad away and carefully eyes everyone. If they only knew...Well know what they say. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Swindle glances aside as Foxfire stalks off without appearing to pay him any more notice. Returning his attention to Smokescreen he waits for the other to make a comment, his no doubt witty, profound and awesome one which is, sadly for posterity, lost to the sight of a Junkion making a rather dramatic entrance. "Decidedly so." He agrees. Jazz continues to wander the stands. Probably looking for someone. Either that or he's heading to the spot where the sniper shot from. Or maybe he's doing both. He does pause, seeing the Militant come from the area. Other investigations and all. Hopefully they won't mind yet another person checking into things. Besides-- Jazz likes humans. Even if they don't like him. He gives Aramasu a respectful bow as he passes. Student of culture, dude. Foxfire doesn't notice the Junkion, nor does he care about his surroundings. He's obviously distressed, and it becomes even more clear as he is no longer in sight; strangely enough, he didn't go anywhere near the stadium's entrance. The apparent answer? He's still in the stadium somewhere, hiding, and most likely sulking. He'd never been to Monacus previously, and thus missed out on a lot of things. What a way to spend your first trip somewhere, going crazy from completely boredom, and taking it out on people. Aramasu Hikage raises an eyebrow at Jazz but does not return the bow. Afterall one does not salute the fridge before getting a glass of OJ in the morning. "Greetings Autobot. Jazz is it ? I wanted to congratulate you on your silver medal in sharpshooting. Looks like targeting computers are getting better and better. Almost on par with human skill and talent." "Hey Mickey, you're so fine..." The Junkion sings loudly, spinning on her board. "You're so fine fine, you blow my mind!" She tries a complicated skateboard manuever; however, she fails horribly. She lands with a loud *THUD*, right on her aftplate. "Owwie...I got a boo-boo." The femme laughs loudly, grinning. "Whee..." She obviously is enjoying herself. The Junkion known as Broadcast is looking all over the area. He spots the various aliens in the area and mutters, "It looks like a flea market threw up here." His sidekick, Telecast says, "Get out of my head!" Broadcast and Telecast are almost identical. Telecast repeats himself, "Get out of my head." Broadcast chirps up with, "Kiss my ass." Smokescreen blinks as Wipeout proves her namesake, and shrugs. "Junkions." he muses, tone light. "At least it won't be hard to fix her if she falls from somewhere too high up." OOo! A jab! He's looking for blood! "Thanks, I think." Jazz grins at ninja-pants. "However targetin' computers really don't help much when yer not usin' them-- but congratulations to you, Hikage-san. After last year's less than enthusiastic participation by the Militants, you have proven that yer all still alive." Yeah. One Militant participated last year, Hikage. "You're in charge of the investigatin'?" he asks, casually. Mr. Ninja-pants suppresses a smile .oO(A most entertaining machine. One that was actually programmed to be polite and obviously knows a bit about culture.)Oo. "Not really /in charge/ because quite frankly this is the Junkion's problem but I am running my own little investigation on behalf of the Militants." Swindle merely shakes his head, he's got no time to waste gawping at Junkion antics. "Well, as interesting as this conversation has become, I unfortunately have some business for the Empire that needs to be taken care of. You will, of course, excues me I'm sure. Farewell." Raising a hand in farewell, or maybe just in fare, he turns and strides off into the crowd, looking like he has a purpose in mind. "Dancing is forbidden. It is mystery time. We have a case to solve. Aquateen Hunger Force, assemble!" shouts Broadcast as he and Telecast head to the boxcar. A familiar face meets them there, another Junkion. The three Junkions hang around the boxcar that they somehow managed to get into the stands a while ago to set up a base." He yawns and watches his escorts go into the boxcar. He just remains there for the time, almost enjoying the silence. The Junkion femme jumps back on her board, grinning like a schoolgirl. "Hey all you peeps, has anyone seen a boy named Broadcast? I was hoping to see him!" She shouts to the crowd. "By the way, I'm Wipeout, and I'm an EXTREME skateboarder!" She jumps over a few comes, and falls off her board again. She laughs again, and rubs the back of her head in embarrassment. "And that's why!" Jazz is all about the entertaining. Why bother to surpress a friendly smile. Okay. So he's not all about entertaining. He's about learning. "Of course." He says amniably. "I thought I'd give 'em a hand, since they're our friends an' all." Broadcast seems to be awaiting someone's presence or something. He mentions a hint to himself by calmly saying, "I'm gonna give this rainbow thing another five minutes... and if it don't show up, I'm going down to the store and I'm buyin' a Hot Rod magazine." He seems to be in an idle thought mode. Aramasu Hikage nods at the Autobot "Indeed. And have your investigation team found anything worth reporting ?" The Militant pulls out his datapad ready to record any pertinent information that could help the Militants catch the mysterious sniper. "I am particularly eager to find out any information regarding this incident as you without a doubt understand. When someone takes a shot at a fellow commander. I get...edgy." Smokescreen hrrms, finding himself alone for a bit. He shrugs, then makes his way on off to, well, wherever it is he has to go. Telecast and Newscast are talking on the inside of the boxcar, Newscast says, "Broadcast told me to go in the freezer, because there was a carnival in there. There was no carnival, it was a damn freezer. I got freezer burn, and I got mushed up against that chicken." The Junkions seem to have taken on personas and using them for code. Jazz shakes his head, "Nah. Ain't found anythin' that isn't available to the public." Comes the answer. "An' I understand that pretty well. Been a few fights over the years where I wondered if any of us'd get outta there. Did ya find anythin' yourself?" Not that he really expects a Militant to share data. Wipeout grabs her skateboard and runs up into the Junkion stands. She runs past the boxcat, and sets her board down. She takes a running jump, and lands on the board. She tries to jump the boxcar. Well, she manages to leaps over the boxcar, but lands on her faceplate. "...Owwie..." she mutters, slowly getting up. She shakes her head. Aramasu Hikage he looks down at the datapad "Pretty much same thing I am afraid. Bullets recovered from the Militant box points to a .308 Winchester caliber which automaticly marks the weapon as Terran. 10 shots were fired consecutively which hints at a 10 round clip. Nobody could operate a bolt-action rifle THAT fast...Nobody. Pieces of the gun recovered indicated the rifle was my by Heckler & Koch on Earth. No shells were recovered but spectro-chemical analysis indicate heavier powerder residue than usual which in turn hints at caseless rounds. Scope was totally destroyed. Suspect repelled down the external wall. We found the grappling hook and rope but nobody tied to it of course." He looks up at the Autobot waiting to see just how much Jazz knows about this. If he dosen't well a few more hints could not hurt. Broadcast heads to the boxcar and almost enters it but he whispers something to himself, "Look, that beam came from space. You don't own space, so stop acting like you do." as he eyes his own reflection. Then a loud thud ignites his senses. Broadcast grabs for his helmet and places it over his head, "Who goes...?" He pauses as he identifies the figure. This is a startling moment. Wipeout looks up curiously. "Caster..?" she whispers, quietly. She sits up and looks more carefully at the mech. "Is that really you?" Broadcast emits as he logic circuits fail to help, "Wipeout, don't refer to her as a babe, please. She is a Chechnyan prostitute and you will refer to her as such." He shakes his head as if to try and snap out of a phase, "This is really Broadcast on Radio KNUJ!" Wow. Now there's a barrel of information that Jazz really didn't expect to get. "Interestin'." He says, "Did ya find anyone who saw the subject goin' down the rope?" Things are really pointing towards one of the human factions. At least for the Militant shooting. "I heard somma the information on the weapon, but I ain't exactly a weapons-expert." He glances at the wall, wondering "Did somebody get a picture o' the hook in the wall?" He might be able to comprehend information like that. Having a grapling hook of his own that he uses occasionally. Radio DJ Broadcast says, "This is RADIO KNUJ with Broadcst. We need as many callers as possible to make this segment work. I am going to start a story and someone has to add to that part. Got it?" Radio DJ Broadcast starts, hoping a callers continues... "Millions of years ago, before Sigourney Weaver..." Wipeout jumps up and basically tackles Broadcast. "Oooh, CASTER!!" she squeals happily, wrapping her arms around the larger mech. "Oh, I've missed ya DeeJay!" She giggles, pressing herself closer to Broadcast. "I missed you alot..." She sombers up, and presses her cheeck to Broadcast's chest. "It's been way too long. Everyday seemed an eternity..." Aramasu Hikage shakes his head "Not to my knowledge. Maybe someone OUTSIDE the stadium might have seen the shooter go down the rope but if anyone did I am not aware of it. As for snapshots of the grappling hook maybe the Monacus Police has some but I did not stop to the detail having seen the hook first hand I did not ask for pictures." .oO(Not a weapons expert PFFFTTT. Right uploading the info on earth's weapon should take you a few hours at most.)Oo. Jazz nods slowly. "I'll have ta go ask 'em 'bout it." he answers. Questions questions. "What did you think 'bout it?" Upload? hardly. Even if it's technically possible for a Cybertronian to upload information, Jazz would rather learn it the old fashioned way. Experience, reading, and learning. He's just that kind of a guy. Machine. Whatever. Broadcast smiles, but the helmet and faceplate hide that feature. "Long, long way from home, It seems I've forgotten all that I was toldand the heartache is startin' and those who love themselves aren't enslaved to no one else." He puts both hands gently over on to WipeOut's shoulders. Aramasu Hikage looks down at his datapad "What 'I' think about it ? Well first I believe the shooter acted alone. It would have been easy for an accomplice to cover for him while the shooter changes in a bathroom or closet or keep a pre-determined itinerary clean from bystanders to allow for a quick escape. But no he went out the hard way over the wall and down in an alley only to disappear god knows where. Second: The shooter researched his perch before goign there. That means the shooter WAS here before or someone gave him accurate directions for the perch so he would have a perfect line of sight on the Militant box. Third: Junkion security leaves to be desired or...they were in on it and let the assassin through. In which case if it could be proven that the Junkoins helped the assassin well...That would hurt their status on Earth that's for sure." Wipeout snuggles closer to Broadcast, glad to be back with her best friend. "Oh, I've missed you..." she whispers. She places her hand on his helmet, and gently gives him a noogie. Slowly, she begins singing softly. "How can you see into my eyes like open doors? Leading you down into my core where I've become so numb? Without a soul my spirit's sleeping somewhere cold! Until you find it there and lead it back home..." She leans against Broadcast. "What's your story?" she asks Broadcast, smiling up at him. Jazz nods, moving towards the wall. "Security for somethin' this big is kinda difficult." He speculates. "An' there's so many beings here with all sorts of technology, and abilities." He shakes his head, "Junkeons, in general are a li'l different, but they ain't 'bout to do somethin' like that." Broadcast falls silent for a second and smiles softly, "Well, this is going to take a long time, so you may want to get some snacks...." He waits for WiepOut to respond to that. Wipeout hugs Broadcast close to her. "What's your story, morning Glory?" she asks, looking at him innocently. "What do you hide behind a mask?" Aramasu Hikage frowns slightly at Jazz "Yes of course they are not like that. But I think I will wait for the final results of the investigation before saying anything as to their participation in the attempt. Every reasonable possiblity has to be explored." he says while entering that bew hypothesis in his datapad. (And now it's time for a beer break). Broadcast pauses and begins to quote, "THOUSANDS OF YEARS AGO, before the dawn of man as we knew him, there was Sir Santa of Claus, an ape-like creature making crude and pointless toys out of dinobones and his own waste, hurling them at chimp-like creatures with crinkled hands regardless of how they behaved the previous year. These so-called "toys" were buried as witches, and defecated upon, and hurled at predators when wakened by the searing grunts of children. It wasn't a holly jolly Christmas that year. For many were killed." He does not want to reveal the mask part just yet. Not here, no. Wipeout looks at Broadcast with a strange look on her face. "Tell it to me straight, tell me true. What's been happening while I've been gone?" She closes her optics for a moment, and sings. "Nobody taught me to hint, win a happy life or a dream. I'm not waiting for a fortuneteller, I feel that my wish will come true...I've never thought ahead to that luck, is it my treasure? Tell me what I've really looked for..." Broadcast sighs and looks at WipeOut, "I wear a helmet for... musical reasons. My face was destroyed a w hile back." He nods as if that idea was a logical tactic to avoid questioning. Wipeout caresses the mask with one hand, her optics dimmed. "I am the mask you wear, its you the hear..." she murmurs. She makes no move to remove the mask, however. "And what about the the other boys, where are the other boys?" She lays her head onto Broadcast's shoulder. Broadcast points to the boxcar, "The Media Crew and I are stationed in there." He makes no motion, however, to allow anyone to enter the boxcar. Wipeout nods. "Is this a coed game, or is it a boys' only clubhouse?" she asks. Her optics darken momentarily, and she tilts her head. "You're different somehow, Caster. I don't know how, but you aren't the same anymore. Tell me true, what's got you blue?" "Domo arigato goziamasu, Hikage-San." Jazz says at last, wandering off towards the center of town. Is he going to go to the police station, or party. Good question. "I 'preciate the info." Mostly delayed because the player forgot to respond to the last pose. Broadcast eyes WipeOut, "Aren't you like one of us?" He winks at her, "I mean, there are other little girls that hang out with us." He pauses, "But the boxcar is a wreck, yes." He does not want to admit that he lost EVERY event. Wipeout grins at Broadcast. "Just cuz you lost, ans a blue; That don't mean anything, I still love you!" she sings, again caressing the mask. "Masqurede...paper faces on parade.... Hide your face so the world can never find you..." Broadcast shakes his head, "Galvatron wiped the floor with me. I cannot even believe how badly I did." He takes a seat and relaxes. Wipeout sits down next to him, understanding that Broadcast isn't very happy. "It's alright...Galvatron is really powerful. He's a meanie too. Don't worry about him. Winning isn't everything, Caster." She sighs, and looks down at her skateboard. She picks it up and idly spins the wheels with her hands. "I've been so alone without you, Caster. You're the only one who understands me." Ultra Magnus arrives into the stadium, coming from the hotel. He stops a moment at the entrance and takes a look around. There is no competition involving any Cybertronian or Terran at the moment but Magnus spots 2 Junkions, Jazz and an unkown Militant into the crowd. Slowly he starts to make his way towards them. Broadcast is not sure how to respond, no. "I've been put on tour for the lsat many cycles." He does not know how to handle this scenerio at all. ***** *** * * * * * * *** *** **** * * *** * * * * *** * * *** *** ** * * ** * ** * *** *** *** * * *** *** * * * * *** **** * * *** * * * * * Category: Logs Category: 2022